


I met your sweet smile (and now I'm blown away)

by Rain_GellerBing



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Leonard Snart Lives, Leonard returns to Central City after the Legends defeat Savage, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2019-12-26 20:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18289463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rain_GellerBing/pseuds/Rain_GellerBing
Summary: It is well known by both crooks and the CCPD that Leonard Snart doesn't trust anyone.It is also known by anyone who has met him that Barry Allen would do anything to help someone in need.What will happen, then, when one "reformed" thief asks his nemesis for help, uncovering one of his best hidden secrets?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time since I posted anything, and I have to thank my beta [Call](https://areyouscarletcold.tumblr.com/) not only for her help with my writing and the title, but also for convincing me to post this as soon as possible.
> 
> Title comes from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vyu4NWYwWE4) by Tiziano Ferro (you can find a translation of the lyrics [here](https://lyricstranslate.com/it/l039ultima-notte-al-mondo-last-night-world.html-3))

It was the middle of the night, Len didn’t need a watch to know it was past 2 am when he stumbled into the safe-house of the week. The recon had not gone well: the place he wanted to rob had way too much security for his liking, and he got the feeling that something shady was going on there. Not that it made Len not want to break into the place, but it meant that he had to spend more time thinking about how to get into. Thankfully Mick was not there to fume for the delay.

 

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Lisa, playing cards at the table in the little kitchenette that there was in the safe-house.

 

“Took your sweet time, huh?” she asked, not turning.  _ That's a bad sign _ , Len mused. Lisa never looked at him when she was pissed. That is, right before she started a shouting contest.

 

“Place's well guarded, I guess our sweet mayor has a lot of things to hide,” he answered, opening the fridge to fish a beer. There was none. Len sighed, deciding to sit down on the mismatched chair next to the one Lisa was sitting on.

 

“I bet you don't have good news either,” he added, and Lisa noded.

 

“It's not going well, Lenny.” Lenny. Which meant that things were pretty crappy.

 

“I got that from the fact that it's 2 am and you're up to talk to me.” He sighed. He wanted to sleep so much, he knew he had to wake up in less than five hours, and he wasn't that young anymore. Not enough sleep always made him cranky, not that he would ever say something like that out loud.

 

Finally, Lisa turned to look at Len, but what he didn't like what he saw in her eyes.

 

“We need help.”

 

“No.” Len's been categorical about that right from the start. No. They didn’t need help.

 

“Yes, we do.”

 

“No, Lisa.” The  _ I don't trust anyone except you about this _ was left in the air, because Len knew Lisa knew.

 

The siblings had a short staring contest, neither of them wevering in front of the other's stare.

 

“We can't do this alone and you know that very well, Lenny. You are almost never here, and I can't deal with the situation as well as you think I can.”

 

She was worried, Len realized, and a pang of panic made its way through him. If even Lisa was worried...

 

“I don't trust anyone else with this. You know that.”

 

Lisa nodded, returning her gaze to her cards and playing with the edge of one of them. Nervous, Len realized. Not a good sign, not good at all.

 

“There might be  _ one _ person, though...” she let the sentence hang, knowing that Len would understand.

 

“I am not kidnapping Ramon again, and I am not trusting him with this. No matter how much you want to see him again,” Len said, ignoring the murderous look that the comment got him, “we are not trusting him with this. And not only because I don't trust you around him.”

 

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Do you really not trust him?”

 

“No matter how much he's into you, he'd rat me out at the CCPD in a matter of seconds, and this is the one thing I simply can't have the CCPD know. Or anyone else, for the matter,” Len added. He closed his eyes and massaged his temples.

 

“We need help.”

 

“Yes, you've said it at least seven times,” Len barked, eyes still close but hands frozen. Massages weren't doing anything to calm him, or help him think.

 

“No, brother dear, that's the solution.”

 

Len looked at Lisa, who had a smirk on her lips that made her look like a cat who had just found a new and exciting way to torture a mouse.

 

“What do you mean by that?”

 

“I mean that there is someone in Central City who would do  _ anything _ to help  _ anybody _ .” She smirked, but Len shook his head.

 

“No. No way. I'm not trusting the Flash with this, Lisa!  _ The Flash _ ! He is the last person on Earth who should have this kind of information on me.”

 

Lisa cocked her head. “Yet you haven't ratted out his dirty little secret yet. Not even to me. And it's just so frustrating, Len, you should really –”

 

“The point, Lisa.”

 

“The point is that if you ask his help on this, it's not like he can do it in a red leather suit, right? He would be exposing his cute little face. If he says yes, he is on the line exactly like you.”

 

Len thought about it, comparing pros and cons. “I still think this solution puts me at disadvantage,” he mumbled.

 

“Well,” Lisa said, “we can't be always winners. And I really need to get out of Central, this city just drives me crazy. How could you think that a city with monsters running in the streets is a good place where to do this, I have no idea.”

 

“We talked about this, Lisa. This is where we were born and where we grew up.”

 

“And what a fascinating experience that was,” she deadpanned.

 

“I know you think Metropolis is so much better, but this is where I want to do this.”

 

“Yeah, well. Without Mick, it's just the two of us, and we can't do it alone. You, alone? Maybe. I'm just saying I'm not good at this in general, and especially not good with the problem at hand.” She sighed, throwing the cards she was holding on the table in frustration. Len knew that what he had asked Lisa to do could be too much for her, but...

 

“You're doing a great job,” he said, comforting.

 

“But you do it so much better.” She looked at him, staring directly at his soul in that way that Len hated so much. He didn't want to show any kind of weakness, not even to his sister. “I'm not saying I don't like spending my time here, but... this is not how I want to spend my life. And you know it.”

 

“Yeah, you'd rather be in Metropolis trying to worm your way into some rich guy's heart and then leave him, possibly with all of his money,” Len said, smiling.

 

“You make me sound like a really bad person,” Lisa complained in a way that made Len laugh.

 

“Think about it, though. The Flash could help.”

 

“Oh my God, Lisa, I can't believe you're really suggesting –”

 

“Yes, I am! And will you try to keep your voice down? It's two in the fucking morning.”

 

Len shut up, because she did have a point. About the hour, not about calling the Flash.

 

“He thinks you're reformed or something. He's gonna help you.”

 

Len rolled his eyes. “It's impossible that they haven't noticed that I came back with style, they've only had bigger fishes to deal with, and that's the only reason why I haven't had a clash with the fastest man alive in a while.”

 

“Is that loneliness that I sense in your tone, brother dearest?” Lisa joked.

 

Len gave her  _ the _ look, the one he used to scare off all the people who didn't mind their business or who didn't follow orders. Sadly, it didn't work at all on Lisa.

 

“It's just one call.”

 

Len put his head between his hands, elbows on the table, which was old enough to crack under the weight. They should steal a better one, Len thought.

 

“I'm going to make this call in the morning, but only because that will make you happy.”

 

Lisa basically jumped on the chair. “Does this mean that I get to go to have some fun somewhere else, possibly exotic and full of rich hunks?”

 

Len rolled his eyes. “Well, you can't be around while the Flash is here without his cowl, can you?”

 

And by the way Lisa smiled Len realized that she might have conned him the entire time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry answes a strange call from Snart and he finds himself in front of a warehouse. 
> 
> What the hell is going on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm sorry it took me longer than I expected to post this! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Barry stared at the red brick warehouse, feeling conflicted. He was already late, but the situation was too weird and he had no idea what he should have done.

 

Captain Cold had called him. For the first time since the former-not-so-former thief had left the Legends after defeating Savage, Barry had heard his voice. He wouldn't even had known Snart was back in town if not for professor Stein. Barry guessed he could have understood Snart was back because there had been some unusually spotless crime scenes recently, but no Captain Cold using the Cold Gun, so Cisco couldn't have tracked him.

 

It had been surreal, because the first thing he had heard in months from Snart had been “You're actually good at chemistry, right?”

 

Not even a greeting. Barry was still hurt by that.

 

Also, Snart had implied that he needed his help about something, but he had not explained anything, telling him only the address of the warehouse, the time he should have shown up, and that had been it, really.

 

What the hell was going on?

 

“I thought being the fastest man alive meant you could show up to places on time.”

 

Barry wasn't that embarrassed to say that he could have recognized that voice anywhere, and that he kind of missed the lazy and sarcastic drawl of the one and only Captain Cold. Not that he would have said that last part to anyone.

 

“Being the fastest man alive also means having to deal with rather peculiar supervillains,” Barry said, turning to see Snart at one of the windows of the warehouse.

 

“Come in, we have to talk,” Snart replied, before disappearing inside.

 

Barry closed his eyes, hoping he didn't make the wrong decision trusting Snart again. He was one of the people who had saved the world from certain doom, but that didn't mean he wasn't... a thief, a murder, and a liar and all that crap Snart always said.

 

Barry stepped inside a dingy atrium, where he found Snart standing in the darkness. It didn't creep him out as much as it should have.

 

“Three things before we go inside: one, you are not the Flash in this scenario, two, no one ever finds out what happens inside this building, and three, you call me Leonard, or Len, or whatever, I don't care as long as it's not Snart or Cold,” Snart said, his long fingers listing in front of Barry's nose the important things he had to remember.

 

“What's going on here?” Barry whispered, but before he could get an answer, Snart had dragged him into what was a surprisingly welcoming living-room, which was extremely unusual for a safe-house. The room was spacious and well illuminated, even though it had no windows, so no natural light. One half of the room was more a dining room than a living-room, with a nice mahogany table Barry really hoped Snart hadn't stolen – but who was he kidding? It was definitely stolen.

 

The other half of the room was used as a proper living-room, with a comfy sofa and armchair set, a bookcase full of books, DVDs and Playstation games, a TV...

 

And a child sitting in front of the TV watching  _ Luke Cage _ on Netflix.

 

Barry froze at the sight of the child. He couldn't really see his face, but an idea made space in Barry's mind. It couldn't be, could it?

 

“Come on, little snowman, your chemistry tutor is here,” Len called, and two things sank into Barry's brain.

 

One, he had to tutor this kid in chemistry.

 

Two, Leonard Snart had a son and apparently called him 'little snowman'. Barry tried really hard not to snort  _ and _ freak out.

 

Before the child could get up from the carpet where he was sitting, Barry and Cold exchanged a glance that made Barry understand how much Snart trusted him. No one had known he had a son. No one. Maybe Rip Hunter, but just  _ maybe _ . No record of this kid could be found in relation to Snart, but as soon as Barry looked at the kid he saw that it couldn't be a mistake. The kid was so much like Snart it was almost creepy. He was just younger, shorter and... warmer. The kid actually smiled at Barry, extending his hand.

 

“I'm Michael, I'm sure you've never heard of me because dad is super paranoid when it comes to me. And you are?” the boy presented himself, and Snart glared at his kid.

 

“I have all the right to be paranoid, and you know it.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” The kid dismissed him with a shrug, and then he returned his attention to Barry, arching an eyebrow exactly like his father would have done.

 

“Oh, your hand. Right.” Barry shook Tiny Snart's hand, finding that the kid had a surprisingly firm handshake for someone who looked barely ten. “I am Barry.”

 

Michael cocked his head in a way that reminded Barry of Lisa, his blue eyes betraying how smart he was. “How do you know my father?”

 

Barry froze. Oh fuck. He had to lie, didn't he? What was he going to do? Why was he so bad at handling this secret identity thing?

 

“I hum... know your father from work!” Oh no crap now the kid will think he's a thief too, won't he?

 

“Barry works for the CCPD, he's the one who erased my record, and this is why I trust him enough with you,” Len answered for Barry, giving him a glare that was probably meant to be a  _ Get a grip, man _ glare, but looked more like an  _ I am going to kill you if you can't keep it together  _ glare. On a second thought, it was probably an  _ I am going to kill you if you can't keep it together _ glare.

 

In the meantime, Michael had nodded. “Oh, so he's a corrupt cop?”

 

“More like a CSI who gets himself into shady business because of his good heart,” Snart replied, and Michael nodded again.

 

“For a moment here I thought he was your boyfriend or something,” Michael said, making both Barry and Snart gape at him.

 

“What, auntie Lisa said twinks are your type!”

 

Barry wanted to die. Why hadn't that stupid lightning killed him? He wouldn't have been in that situation!

 

“I am never leaving you with your aunt to go on a timeship ever again,” Snart muttered, and Barry was surprised, not for the first time, about the amount of information Michael had on who his father was and what he did.

 

“How old are you, Michael?” he asked, and the kid returned his gaze on Barry. Damn, it felt like being scanned.

 

“I'm eleven.”

 

“Yeah, definitely too young to know what a twink is.”

 

WHY DID HE SAY THAT? One of the perks of thinking and talking fast was not being able to stop yourself from embarrassing yourself every five words, Barry thought as Snart gave him a look that could kill.

 

“I think we really should go and study chemistry before I say other things that could make your father want to kill me,” Barry said, and Michael laughed.

 

Snart mussed the kid's dark locks, that were a lot longer than the gray buzzcut Barry usually associated with male Snarts, and told him to go to pick up his stuff from his room.

 

Michael went away, leaving Barry and Snart alone.

 

“I hope you realize how hard this is for me,” Snart muttered, and he looked as far from his Captain Cold persona as Barry had ever seen him. He wasn't even looking at Barry, but staring at the TV.

 

“Yeah, I do.”

 

Barry realized that many people would have wanted to know Leonard Snart had a son. Other thiefs, mafia families, the CCPD (for different reasons, sure, but still).

 

“I guess he is failing chemistry and you couldn't look for a normal tutor, uh?” Barry asked, and Snart just nodded.

 

“Yeah.” It looked like Snart wanted to say something more, but Michael came back into the room and got to sit at the marvelous mahogany table, so Barry left Snart in the middle of the room to go help the boy.

 

“So, what are we doing today?” he asked, sitting next to Michael, who opened the book as if it had been poisonous.

 

“The composition of rocks,” Michael replied, with a disgust that mirrored the one found in his father's voice when he said he wasn't a hero. The thought made Barry chuckle.

 

“Oh! This is interesting! I like geology. So, you see, –” Barry started explaining, making Michael read from the book from time to time to check if he was talking about something the kid actually had to study and answering all of Michael's questions. And there were a lot of them.

 

From where Barry was sitting he had a nice view of the entire room, and he could see Snart sitting on the armchair with a book in his hands and... were those reading glasses? He made a mental note to joke about that as soon as he got the chance. Implying that Cold was old always made him... lose his cool.

 

Ok, that was bad, even for an internal monologue. You should focus on the science talk, Barry, and leave the puns to old guys in blue parkas.

 

Barry lost track of time while explaining chemistry to Michael, and before he knew it, Snart disappeared from the room, going into the next one, and soon the safe-house was filled with the smell of something good cooking. If Barry had to guess, baked pasta.

 

Of course the smell of food made Barry's stomach growl, and the sound made Michael laugh loud. Snart must have heard them, because he showed at the door to smirk and say “You're staying for dinner, right? Or do you prefer me to pay your services with money?”

 

Barry thought about the provenience of the money, and then at baked pasta.

 

“I hope you know me well enough to know the answer by yourself,” Barry replied, and Snart disappeared into the kitchenette, his stupid Snart smirk still on.

 

“Dad's food is great,” Michael whispered.

 

“Oh, I hope he makes a lot, because my stomach is bottomless.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank again my beta for her support, and all the people who left kudos and comments :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry meets Michael, from Len's point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry for the very late update. My other multichapter fic - You Must Forge Your Own Path \- is taking a lot of my time, and so are uni and life in general. 
> 
> I want to thank my beta Call for her time and her patience.
> 
> Also many many thanks for the comments that remind me that someone is still out there, reading this story, and they want to know how it will go on.

To say that Len had been nervous at the idea of Michael meeting Barry was an understatement, and that was probably the reason why Michael had thought Barry and him were in a relationship. The kid was way too good at reading people for an eleven-years-old. Especially Len. He could act as closed off as possible, and yet his kid could still read him as easily as a children's book.

  


He had studied Michael and Barry work at the table from the armchair, where he had pretended to read. He had even put on his reading glasses, to make sure Michael thought he was actually reading.

  


Barry had been great. Soon, Len realized that having someone explain to Michael what was going on in the world of science could actually be useful for the kid. He looked happy he understood whatever they were talking about, Len could tell.

  


He felt bad at not being able to help his son. Maths? English? History? Art? All of that, he could do. But chemistry? Physics? Biology? No way in hell Len could understand those, and he felt like Michael had gotten that from him too.

  


However, it seemed like he was understanding what Barry was saying, and Len calmed down a bit. Lisa could have been right. By the way Barry was reacting to Michael, it didn't look like he would rat him out, and that was the only thing that mattered. Barry was smart enough to understand why he didn't go around saying that he had a son, and as much as Michael said he was paranoid, Len knew he had all the right to be. What if the CCPD got a wind of that and got him away from Len? Or even worse, what if the Santini found out about Michael? Len would rather see his son adopted by a nice family who lived in a house with a white fence than have him kidnapped or, even worse, initiated to the fine arts of stealing and killing like it had happened to him.

  


Once Len felt like he had calmed down enough, he noticed how dinner time was coming soon, so he got to the kitchenette and started making his famous baked pasta, following the recipe his grandfather had taught him. He had emigrated from Italy as a child because of the Racial Laws, and not to say something stereotypical about Italians but damn, grandpa Snart knew how to cook. And luckily, Len had learned enough from him.

  


He had planned to pay Barry with food, so instead of making baked pasta for three people he decided to make it for six. More and Michael would have gotten curious about the abundance of food, less and he would have had a fainting speedster in the house. He really hoped that would be enough.

  


In the silence of the kitchenette, Len heard the unmistakable sound of Barry's stomach growling. He had known about Barry's needs because once during a fight Barry had had to stop and eat an energy bar. Len snickered at the memory, and he heard Michael laugh at how loud the speedster's stomach had been.

  


He decided to take a look inside the room, to clarify how he intended to pay Michael's tutoring.

  


“You're staying for dinner, right? Or do you prefer me to pay your services with money?” Len smirked.

  


Barry's eyes lightened at that. Len could never get over the fact that he had found someone who liked bantering as much as he did; on the top of that, the person was also on the other side of the law, giving them a lot of topics to argue about.

  


It was exceptionally fun. Challenging.

  


“I hope you know me well enough to know the answer by yourself,” Barry replied, and Len returned to the kitchenette to check on the baked pasta. He knew he was still smirking, but he couldn't really help it.

  


“Dad's food is great.”

  


Len knew that, since Michael was whispering, he probably wasn't supposed to hear it, but he couldn't help feeling extremely proud. Len knew he wasn't the best cook. He was definitely better than Lisa, but he was pretty sure Michael could cook better than Lisa too. He knew he wasn't as good as his grandfather, and especially in cooking meat Mick had been a better cook than him, but the fact that Michael recognized his ability in the kitchen made a warm feeling bloom in his chest.

  


He knew he was smiling. Not smirking, smiling. Michael was the only person, with the rare exception of Lisa, who could still make him smile, even after all the crap he had been through.

  


Len heard Barry say something about his bottomless stomach, and that reminded Len that he had gone back to the oven to check the baked pasta, so he shifted his focus on the food.

  


When he knew it would take ten minutes at most for the pasta to be ready, he called Michael, and the kid appeared at the door so fast Len thought for a second he had been Barry.

  


“Can you make the table, little snowman?”

  


“Sure thing, dad.”

  


Michael walked into the room, picking up from the drawers all the things he needed.

  


“Did you finish your homework?”

  


“Yes, dad,” Michael singed, and someone chuckled.

  


Len turned to see Barry leaning to the door frame, and it took everything in Len not to stare at those legs. Had they always been that long? Was it legal to wear such tight pants? Was Barry crazy or was he just too used to the suit that he preferred to wear tight clothes?

  


Why was Len focusing on Barry?

  


“Can I help?” Barry asked, thankfully making Len get out of his head.

  


“With the food?” He raised an eyebrow. Barry was a twenty-something guy who had lived with his father until maybe two days before, and Len doubted he knew how to make something more difficult than a cup of instant noodles.

  


“Oh no. I'm talking to Michael,” Barry answered, his face showing that he almost feared the idea of being in charge of dinner. Len was glad he had read Barry right.

  


“Yes please. The plates are in the drawer over dad's head,” Michael instructed.

  


Barry got closer to him, but before he could think about it Len opened the drawer and got the plates out, giving them to Barry, who looked as surprised as Len felt. Had... had Captain Cold just passed the plates to the Flash?

  


For the first time, Len realized how weird the situation was. He was cooking for his son and his archnemesis, who was also tutoring his son in chemistry.

  


How had Lisa talked him into doing this?

  


Then again, the alternative was either tutoring Michael himself or having Lisa tutor Michael.

  


Neither option could work out well.

  


So let it be the Flash.

  


No amount of superspeed was used in preparing the table, and Michael and Barry chatted through the entire process about Star Wars. Len was pretending he didn't love the admiration Michael had in his voice when he talked about Han Solo.

  


“I know that Han is a more likable character, but I do prefer Luke,” Barry was saying, and of course he preferred Luke. In which universe Barry Allen wouldn't love the random guy who was predestined to save the universe?

  


“Yeah, but Han goes from being a wanted man to marrying a princess, and not just any princess but  _ princess Leia _ ,” Michael replied, and that made Len silently laugh, comfortable in the knowledge of not being seen.

  


“I– I will find a counter argument to that,” Barry sounded stunned by Michael's argumentation, and that made Len smirk even more. His son was smart.

  


“Come on, nerds, dinner's ready,” he announced, coming into the room with the first batch of baked pasta.

  


“There's more in the oven,” he told Barry as he sat down, but the speedster wasn't looking at him. His eyes were pointed on the food in the middle of the table, gaping. Len could see him drooling a little bit.

  


“I'm going to serve the guest first. It's the polite thing to do and if I don't he'll probably eat you,” he joked, looking at Michael, who burst laughing.

  


Barry soon became as red as his suit, and oh wasn't that a funny sight.

  


Barry ate as slowly as he could, and at the end of the dinner there were no leftovers, to no one's surprise. Maybe Michael found it slightly strange, but the kid had seen Mick eat like a pig since he had been a small child, so he didn't look all that phased by Barry's eating habits.

  


After dinner, Michael helped Len bring everything in the kitchen, and Barry helped Len wash the dishes, while Michael went back to the episode of _Luke_ _Cage_ he had been watching before Barry had arrived.

  


Washing dishes with Barry was even more surreal than passing him said dishes, also because it involved a longer amount of time.

  


“This is so weird,” Barry laughed at some point, drying one of the glasses.

  


“Don't talk to me about that.”

  


Len smirked. He had soap up to his elbows, and Barry Allen - The Flash! - was standing next to him drying cutlery. It almost felt like the beginning of a joke.

  


“So, how's my kid?” Len asked, trying not to show any weakness, any nervousness. “His teachers told Lisa that the only problem he has is with chemistry, and really, I have no idea how to help him with  _ that _ .”

  


“It's not a problem, really, especially if I get food out of this.” Barry chuckled, but then he added “I don't think he is that bad, though. As soon as I explain things to him in a way that is different from the textbook, he gets it. He's a smart kid.”

  


“Yeah, he's cool that way,” Len couldn't help it and smirked.

  


Barry groaned, and then he playfully shoved Len with his shoulder.

  


“Jeez, this is weird,” Barry commented, and they both chuckled.

  


They finished washing the dishes in silence, and then they went back to the living-room, where they found Michael almost nodding off on the sofa.

  


“Hey old sport, it's time to take a shower,” Len yelled to wake his child up.

  


“Old sport?” Barry asked, puzzled.

  


“He insisted I call him that after he read  _ The Great Gatsby _ . Don't worry, I know it's weird,” Len explained, and then he sighed.

  


“ _ The Great Gatsby _ ?”

  


“Yeah, I read it a couple of years ago,” Michael said, getting up from the sofa.

  


Barry looked impressed. Len was as proud as he could be. He knew that sometimes Michael read books that weren't exactly targeted for his age, but the kid found boring a lot of kids books. And Len never saw anything bad in buying – even better, stealing – literary classics.

  


“So Barry,” Len asked, once he thought it was the time to stop being proud of his little snowman, “how about we do this, say... twice a week?”

  


“Fine by me,” the other replied. “Tuesdays and Fridays?”

  


“That sounds great.” Len nodded.

  


“Bye Barry, see you Friday!” Michael yelled as Len was guiding Barry out of the safe-house.

  


“Bye, Michael!”

  


At the door, the speedster snorted. “I can't believe you call your son 'little snowman'. Do you have any idea how dorky that is?”

  


“Shut up.”

  


Len basically shoved Barry out of the door.

  


<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>

  


“So, what do you think about Barry?” Len asked, as Michael went back into the living-room after his shower. He was wearing his favorite pajama with a giant and fluffy penguin on, and Len hoped he would never grow up. The idea of his kid soon becoming a teenager scared him more than the idea of going back to Iron Heights.

  


Michael thought about it as he sat on the couch next to his dad. “He's a better teacher than you, or auntie. Like, he could do it as a job, if he didn't want to solve crimes,” he judged. “He's even better than Mrs. Irvine, but I don't think it takes a lot to be a better teacher than her.”

  


“Michael, you know that I don't like it when you talk about your teachers that way,” Len scolded him.

  


“It's true, though. The Barry part, I mean. He's good.”

  


Len nodded, thankful that in the end he had made a weird choice, but it had turned out to be a good one.

  


“Are you sure he's not your boyfriend?”

  


Len sighed. “I have no idea what your aunt told you, but you shouldn't listen to her that much.”

  


“It's just weird that the guy you keep asking for help is your type.”

  


Len rolled his eyes. “It's not weird, it's a coincidence. And I have asked him for help just this once, he's the one who keeps asking  _ me _ for help.”

  


“Even better! It shows he's interested,” Michael pointed out, and Len really thought it wasn't the case to have this conversation with his son.

  


Len pinched his nose. “Michael, I'm serious. There is nothing between Barry and me.”

  


“Then why does a CSI keep asking a known thief for help? And why would he say yes to tutoring his son?”

  


Len knew that Michael had a point, but he also knew that there was nothing between Barry and him.

  


“Maybe because I went away with the Legends? Or because he's a nice guy? I don't know Michael, I'm not him,” Len blurt, and he realized he was a bit flustered.

  


When he looked at Michael, he realized that the kid was smirking, and not for the first time Len realized how annoying the trademark Snart smirk was.

  


“You always make sure to know what people around you think, but you don't care about what Barry thinks?”

  


“Isn't it time you go to your room?”

  


Michael laughed. “Accepting defeat so early?”

  


“You're too smart for me to deal with at this time of the day, little snowman.” Len sighed, ruffling Michael's hair. The kid leaned into the touch.

  


“Night dad,” he said, getting up from the sofa. “Love you.”

  


“Love you too,” Len replied, and he went back to read, trying really hard not to think about the conversation he had just had with Michael. Nor about Barry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think it will take me this much to update Chapter 4, because it's basically done, but maybe I should shut up and not jinx it...

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how often I'll be able to post, but I promise it won't take too much time for chapter 2 to be uploaded.


End file.
